The Musical Mind
by WhiteWolf815
Summary: An FBI Agent by day, a wonderful author just about every other waking moment, and a gifted 'demonic-sensor' full-time, Amber Swan loves her home in the Big Apple. However, after her boss forces her to take a vacation, she finds herself in Volterra, Italy, where she unknowingly meets her mates, the Volturi kings and enchants them with her charisma, charm and oddly 'musical' mind.
1. Vacation! What is This Nonsense?

Howdy folks and welcome to the first chapter of _The Musical Mind_. Yes, this is a pairing between the three Volturi brother-kings and my OC in a poly-pairing. If you guys don't approve of this idea, you know where the back arrow is. There is also some Bella bashing and a couple other insults to some other characters that I can't think to name right now.

Also, fair warning but I will not be updating this regularly yet. This is just one of many ideas that were screaming to get out, and the updates will be inconsistent depending on my inspiration, willingness, and availability. Keep in mind that I already have several other works that need to be attended to and finished as well. Sorry but this is the way it's gonna be for a bit.

However, don't ever let that stop you. Please feel free to relax, read, and enjoy.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or any other recognizable works.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Vacation!? What is This Nonsense?**

"Marco Palov, you are under arrest for the murder of your fiancée, Sharon McAlister as well as Arya Bliminse, Ignacia Farfalla, and Victoria Hand-Wolfe," I said with a triumphant, almost vindictive, gleam in my eyes as I slapped a pair of cuffs on the sweating politician. Seriously, I had been waiting, working my butt off for the last month or so for this exact moment right now. Why wouldn't I enjoy this triumph just a little? "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk—"

"I know my damn rights bitch!" he cried, red-faced in anger and spit flying into my eyes. _Damn, bitch I'll kill her and the lot of them!_

"Well okay then, sweetheart," I said dryly, allowing some waiting police officers to take custody of him while I wiped the spittle off my face, expression betraying nothing but slight irritation. "Say it; don't spray it."

My name is Ambrosia Swan, better known as Amber to my friends, close family and anyone else who uses my name on a daily basis. If you haven't guessed already, I am a twenty-three-year-old woman who works for the New York City FBI. I'm also an author as well, but that's a story for another time. Pun intended.

"Good work Swan," my supervisor, Charlie Hawkins, congratulated me, clapping me on the shoulder in an almost fatherly manner, which is ironic since I see him as a bit of a father figure too and my real father's name is Charlie too. "You, Jones, Ruiz, Ivanov and Lawton help the NYPD with the cleanup and evidence recovery while I talk to the captain. I'll see you back at the office to review your reports. Oh, and Swan, after you finish your report, Casey wants to see you about something."

"Uh-oh, what I do wrong now?" I asked in a half-joking kind of way, wondering why the head honcho of the whole division wanted to see me.

Hawkins only shrugged, smirking only a little as he said, "Dunno, but let's hope it's not about switching all the divisions coffee for decaf again."

"Oi! For the millionth time, it was an accident, okay? I was half-asleep when it happened!" I hollered after him as he walked away.

"Sure, just keep telling yourself that."

Huffing with an irritated grumble, I threw my arms up in the air in frustration a little before turning and heading back into the building that had just been stormed, ignoring the other four's chuckling on either side of me.

"Right, let's get this over with," I drawled with a sigh, knowing there was a mountain of paperwork just waiting for me on my desk when this was over. Seriously, there are times when I really love my job, and then there are times when I absolutely despise it.

* * *

"I'm sorry, could you please repeat that again? Because I'm pretty sure I just heard you saying that you want me to take a vacation," I said, expression set in surprised disbelief, staring at the NYC FBI director like he had just grown a second head or something.

It was now sunset in New York, and I was in the FBI Director's office for the 'talk' Hawkins had told me about. However, the word's that fell from Director Casey's lips were the last things I had expected to hear from him.

"Correction, Swan, I am _ordering_ _you_ to take a vacation," the tall, white-haired man informed me with his patented 'I am your boss look' that always came out as grandfatherly-looking to me.

"But—"

"Ambrosia, when was the last time you actually took a real vacation and not one of your long weekend's where you do nothing but write new books for two days straight, binge watch movies, or go to the art festivals in town?"

Holding up my finger in an educating manner, I opened my mouth to retort, only to close it shut when I realized that he had actually made a valid point. Reaching back into the depths of my memory, I don't think I could ever recall taking an official vacation like he described since joining the FBI in general.

Seeming to sense my conclusion too, the corners of the man's lips stretched into a small smirk though he remained quite serious. "You see my point? Now it just so happens that I have a ticket here for an all paid expense, month-long vacation to Italy, and I want you to take it," he said, sliding the envelope containing said ticket and other such items—across the desk towards me.

My jaw dropped. "A month in Italy!"

"Yes, it's a pretty good deal, isn't it?" he agreed amicably, despite the slightly shrill tone I used. "You get to go to Rome, Volterra, Florence, et cetera. You should definitely take this."

Fingers shaking (in either excitement or shock, I don't know), I hesitantly picked up the envelope and leafed through the information. "What's the catch?" I asked suspiciously.

"No catch, but you get a real vacation and we at the FBI both get to pay you back for your generosity over the years for the Christmas cookies and presents as well as get a break from you."

I gave him a deadpanned expression. "That wasn't the point of me giving you gifts just so you could pay me back. And anyways, what about work? And my cats? And my editor?"

"Swan, you and I both know that you have saved up enough vacation and sick days to cover an entire year. And Jones, Ruiz, Ivanov, Lawton and Hawkins have already agreed to watch your pets until you get back with an added bonus to FaceTime them. And as for Mr. Barnes, he has readily agreed to this idea already."

Sighing as I rubbed my forehead a little, I chuckled dryly. "You all were in on this and had this planned for the start, didn't you?"

"Plus a few others," the director agreed mysteriously with a small smile. "All that's left for you to do is agree."

It was silent for a moment as I considered this, though it wasn't much of a struggle. Eventually, I exhaled and said, "Fine, you win. When do I leave?"

Triumph played across the man's features as he said, "Half a week from now. Now get out of here Swan. I've got other stuff to do."

"Yes, sir." I gave a mock salute before doing an about-face and exiting the office.

Walking out of the director's office, I took in the usual sight of several desks lined up in rows, some filled with more paperwork than others and several agents rushing about. It was something I had become familiar with for the past couple years.

Taking a deep breath, I then hollered to the room at large, "Alright, who else was in on this?" I made sure to wave the envelope in the air for emphasis though I knew it would not be needed.

Every hand in the room shot up. Several of them were looking at me expectantly, obviously curious to see if I had accepted.

I tried to fix them all with a glare but ended up just huffing a little and smiling as I said, "Thank you everyone."

Cheers went up and several people applauded. If it wasn't the expressions on the faces of the people I helped that made my hard work worthwhile, it was the people I worked alongside that made everything so much sweeter. Damn I love my job.

* * *

Opening the door to my darkened home, I was assaulted immediately by the scents I associated with home as I reached out and flipped on the light switch with practiced ease.

Now admittedly, my home in Brooklyn, New York was not the biggest, greatest, or flashiest there was out there but it certainly was comfortable and quite homey. Two stories with one master bedroom and three other empty rooms upstairs—two of which had been converted into an office and an art studio respectively while the other one served as a guest room—and a lovely kitchen, dining, bath and living rooms, it would seem a little big, if a bit lonely, had I been living alone.

"Hello? Anybody home?" I called out to the silent house as I set my stuff down by the door, where a small table sat close at hand, laden with multiple pictures of my father and friends and one of my younger sister too.

"Prowl? Jazz? Where are my handsome men?" I carried on speaking, heading into the kitchen.

Knowing it was pointless to wait for a response, I continued on my way over to the fridge, sticking my head in and eyeing my options for dinner. "Let's see here…"

" _Coo-ooh_ ," came the sudden, trilling coo to my left, which was then followed by something soft and fluffy brushing against my legs.

Smiling, I closed the fridge door with a milk carton and stick of butter now in hand. "Hello to you too Jazz. And how is my handsome man today?"

There was another trilling coo from down near my feet as little paws walked across the toes of my Rockport dress shoes.

"Is that so?" I asked conversationally, setting the items on the counter near the stove before heading towards the pantry to grab a box of mac'n'cheese.

There was a third, more demanding warble this time when the pantry was opened, followed by little clawless paws scratching at the frame of the pantry and more increasingly demanding mrowls that almost sounded like actual human words.

Finally taking the time to look down, I was greeted with the sight of my adorable Siamese cat named Jazz. He was the youngest of my two furballs and also the smallest—as in midget sized—which made me think that he wasn't a purebred chocolate-point Siamese like I was first led to believe. Anyways, for a cat, he was quite happy-go-lucky with not a single mean bone in his body as I had never heard him growl or hiss once since I had gotten him. Well, either that or he had been dropped on his head a couple times as a kitten by his mom, which might be true.

"Well aren't you working it for dinner tonight," I teased the cat, reaching down to rub his head with one hand, and a can of turkey flavored Fancy Feast in the other. "Where's your brother Prowl? Did he send you to do his dirty work again? Is he making you work for his dinner too?"

The cat talked some more though it was clear he just wanted the canned food as he immediately shut up and began eating when I cracked open the can and divvied up the food between the two metal bowls I had out. Giving him one last pet, I went back to making myself some macaroni and cheese, smiling when, a couple minutes later, my other cat, Prowl, appeared and began to eat.

"Well hello to you too Prowl," I mocked the large, sleek seal-point Siamese, who hadn't even bothered to acknowledge me. "Honestly, how rude."

Pausing from his meal, the cat looked at me with his sapphire blue eyes, giving me a look before seeming to dismiss me with one flick of his glossy black tail as he went back to eating. Pfft. Cats and their attitudes right?

Shaking my head at them, I went back to making dinner for myself, thinking on what had happened today.

 _I should probably call dad about this_ , I realized thoughtfully as I stirred the noodles in with the cheese powder, milk and butter. _I haven't talked to him for a while yet either._

All of a sudden, I froze, the iris' of my blue-green eyes unknowingly dilating as my grip tightened on the wooden spoon I was holding.

 **Blood, blood, fire, diamonds and more blood.** _ **Chaos**_ **.**

 **Three thrones sat on a lead-colored dais in a room with a drain in the middle. The one on the right had vicious claw marks in it, wolf head designs on the arms and top, and a couple thick pelts covering draped across it too making it look as though it belonged to a warrior king. The left one on the other hand had several multi-colored strings of yarn covering it like spider webs, a silvery strands connecting all three thrones to each other. As for the last one, the one in the middle, it had eyes all over, covering it from top to bottom and staring in every which direction. All of them were magnificent.**

 **There was a blood red curtain or veil fluttering behind them with a crest shaped like a 'V' lined in gold, and little candles surrounded the dais.**

 **And at my feet, in a pool of chaos—** _ **wonderfully sweet**_ **chaos** _ **, give me more! More! More!**_ **— bird feathers—a vulture and phoenix's to be exact—and blood was an ornate silver diadem—a circlet really—that was absolutely stunning with diamonds, rubies and polished moonstones shaped like teardrops affixed to it.**

Stumbling backwards shakily, I caught myself on the granite island behind me, breathing deeply.

Sorry, I guess I should have mentioned my 'gift'.

You see, ever since I can remember, I've had this odd ability to see and hear things no one else can. It's sort of like a combination between being able to see glimpses of the future, touching object's and getting glimpses of the past, and hearing people's thoughts and/or reading their emotion's. However, I don't think terms like psychometric or telepath, empath or psychic could apply to me because of how my ability functioned.

Hmmm…how do I describe it? Oh, I know! So have you ever read any of the Women of the Otherworld series by Kelley Armstrong? No? Well anyways, there's this character in there named Hope Adams who is what's called a half-demon, an Expisco or Chaos half-demon to be precise. At any rate, basically, she has the ability to sense chaos, a demonic sensor if you will. So, for example, if someone were planning to or thinking of their plan to murder someone, she would likely either hear the though or see it in a vision. And if she were at a murder scene, she could possibly see and/or hear what exactly happened depending on how intense it was and if the murder actually took place there.

Well, that's how my gift works too. I can sense 'chaos' (though on a more powerful scale I think). And like her, I also have similar drawbacks.

For example, if the plot to murder someone was just wishful thinking, I wouldn't hear so much as a whisper, though I may get the impression of severe dislike with the more empathetic aspect of my powers.

And also like Hope, I sort of feed off chaos too. It's like a dessert or drug for me; I can and will get an unhealthy rush or high off of it but I also need it like sugar to keep me functioning otherwise my 'blood-sugar' gets too low, and we all know what happens after that. It's also partially why I joined the FBI, though I always have to be careful at a fresh crime scene or morgue otherwise I would be overwhelmed with visions and drive myself nuts with an overdose. I've come close to it before, and the withdrawal-like symptoms are not fun, let me tell you.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder what that vision had been about. Oftentimes, when I don't purposefully induce a vision, I find that the unintentional ones are more confusing but much more dire too, like a weird chaos version of Spidey-senses.

So what could that have been warning me about?

" _Drrrrwah!_ "

I looked down to find Prowl sitting there on the tiled floor, an almost knowing look on his furry features as my eyes met his. Jazz was next to him too, oddly quiet and still.

"Thanks Prowler, Jazzman," I told them softly, crouching down to pet both of them which elicited lawnmower-like sounds and furry smiles from both of them. They always seemed to know how to comfort me best after a vision. Mind you, they were the only ones who knew about my 'gift'.

Yes, you heard that right. Not even my own family knows about my ability.

Shaking my head, I stood back up and went about filling my bowl again with cheesy noodle goodness, expertly avoiding the four-legged roadblocks that continually got in my way, trying to get attention as I then made my way over to the living room. Plopping down on the cushy leather couch, while the furballs proceeded to race each other up the cat tree and sharpen their nonexistent front claws on the scratching posts as testament to their 'fierceness', I pulled the coffee table closer to me, booting up my waiting laptop, and eating while I did so.

Checking my watch and doing the math, I knew I could possibly catch my dad just as he got home from work or something if I tried to call or FaceTime him now due to the three-hour time difference. But that was only if none of his friends decided to take him out or something.

Figuring I might as well try though, I didn't have to wait long for my father's face to pop up on the screen.

"Hey Sweetpea! How are you doing? How's the city that never sleeps?" my father greeted, smiling at the camera, eyes alight.

Meet my father Charlie Swan. Curly brown hair, warm chocolate-colored eyes, as well as a decent sense of humor and unshakable loyalty, I love him to death as he is probably the best father any girl could ask for. He's been there for me for my entire life, supporting me all the way unlike my mother, who played favorites and doted on my younger sister but disliked—trust me, with my gift I of all people should know this—me for some unknown reason. In any case, he's actually the sheriff of my hometown back in Forks, Washington. And out of him, my mother and baby sister, I would have to say that I am closest to him out of everyone else in our family. But, anyone in my place would be too if your father was the only one that raised you when your own mother wouldn't.

Anyways, in response, I said nonchalantly with a smile, "Hey Dad. I'm great, thanks for asking. We just finished up a case today. That McAlister one I told you about."

He smiled proudly, and I internally puffed up and preened. Throughout my entire college career, everyone except him had told me it was impossible to get degrees in two vastly different curriculums like criminal justice and creative writing. It had ticked me off to no end because I hated when someone said something was impossible for me to do when it really was more than plausible. (It just required a lot of time, money and effort in that scenario is all). However, unlike them, my dad had stood by and said "You can do it kiddo. Don't listen to them. If you want to work for the FBI and write your novels too, do it!" I was where I was today all thanks to him.

"That's great to hear, Sweetpea," he congratulated. "And how's the newest book coming along?"

"Slow," I admitted. "But I'll get there. I just need some new inspiration. All my ideas are getting stale."

"I'm sure you'll do great," he assured, making my smile widen. "So what's new? Is this call just because or is something up kiddo?"

Good old dad, seeing right through me since the day I was born.

"Well today, after we finished our reports, the big boss pulled me aside," I said, deciding to drag out the suspense a little.

My dad's brows shot up, knowing like me that being called into the big boss's office was either really good or really, really bad. "Oooh, that doesn't sound good. What happened?"

"Well, it turns out he wants me to take a 'real' vacation," I told him, putting air quotes around the word 'real'. "He _ordered_ me in fact."

Though he turned away from the camera, I swore I heard the words "about damn time" come through the speakers.

"Dad!"

"What? You know it's true kiddo. You work way too much."

"Dad," I whined. "You're supposed to be on my side."

He held his hands up in surrender, though I could see his eyes still laughing at me. "So when are you coming home?" he tried to placate me.

My face fell at the words. "Actually, they are sending me off to Italy for a month."

"A MONTH IN ITALY?!"

"That's exactly what I said. We really are related."

Despite my attempt at humor, I watched as my dad rubbed his face tiredly, much how I did when I processed unexpected things or was stressed. Eventually, he said, "Italy. Wow. This is the opportunity of a lifetime kiddo. They must think of you highly over there if they're sending you to Italy."

"More like they think they owe me for all the Christmas cookies and birthday presents I get them every year," I muttered.

He laughed at that. "You always were too kind for your own good Amber. I remember every school year all the way through high school you would make goodies baskets for your teachers each Christmas and bake your friend's entire cakes for their birthdays. Everyone always loved them."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean they have to pay me back or anything. I just did it because I wanted to," I said with an eye roll before shaking my head. "Anyways, what's new with you, old man? I noticed you seemed more chipper than before."

"Well, I talked to your mother—" I barely repressed a scowl at the words 'your mother' since I hated being reminded of that woman. "—And it turns out your sister Bella is going to come and live with me for the remainder of high school."

"Let me guess, meanwhile Renée is going to run off into the blue with her newest love interest," I drawled sourly with a small frown.

As I have mentioned before, I don't have a very good relationship with either my mother or sister. The former was always doting on the latter and never seemed to care much for me, holding palpable dislike for me that I managed to pick up on from an early age thanks to my powers. Maybe it's because with my blue-green-grey eyes and butterscotch hair tones and curls, I both reminded her of her mother (whom she didn't get along with) and her former 'ball and chain to be' (my dad).

In any case, the feeling was mutual, as I found her irresponsibility, childish antics and flightiness for 'adventure' grating on my nerves. Not to mention, that I hated how she always treated me like an incompetent child, no matter how old I was, and she always seemed to live in some fairy-tale fantasyland instead of reality. It was quite stupid and made me resent her even more. Not to mention some other incidents too that only served to feed that fire over the years.

As for Bella, well, she reminded me of Renée with her self-centeredness and inability to get a proper reality-check. Plus, we didn't see each other often so our bond as sisters didn't really take off. At least she was somewhat more capable than Renée, but not by much.

Of course, after the fiasco of a blow-out that had happened last time I saw them, I doubted that the status of our relationship had improved any either.

And before you say anything else, I just want to mention that, yes, I am aware that my father has faults too. I am not so in love with him that I can't see them or won't acknowledge them. I just love him enough that I don't care about them.

"Ambrosia," my father said in a scolding tone, using the full name card, much like how my boss had done today. "She's your mother, show her a little more respect. Honestly, I hope this dislike of your mother doesn't have anything to do with me because what happened between me and her—"

"Is between you and her and does not need to come in between how I feel for either of you," I finished, knowing the lecture by heart now though it may have been uttered in different words each time. "I know. Trust me, what's between me and Renée had got nothing to do with you. This is between me and her."

He sighed in relief. "Good. Now what else is new?"

We talked for another hour or so after that before finally bidding each other goodbye and signing off. Already, down the hall to my room, I could hear Prowl's deep meow, ordering me to get to bed like usual if I stayed up too late for his liking. Smart cat.

My vision had all but been completely forgotten by then.

A couple days later, I found myself on an 8+ hour flight from the airport in La Guardia to Rome. A few of my friends from work had even seen me off with promises to take good care of my beloved cats while I was away. If only I knew what awaited me when I reached the Italian city of Volterra though, I probably would have either bought myself a cartload of Excedrin or checked myself into a mental asylum. Or both.

* * *

 **A/N:** And there you have it! The beginning of a cute love story.

Please feel free to review, favorite, follow, and check out my polls.

Also, at the end of each chapter, I plan on adding a little section devoted to symbolism describing the elements of visions Amber has. For example, the image I am currently using as a cover image is known as the **Symbol of Chaos** (with eight arrows in a radial pattern), or also known as a the **Chaos Wheel or Star** and that name essentially speaks for itself. The multiple arrows represent the infinite possibilities and possibly also confusion.

 **Candles** \- light in the darkness; represents the element of fire as a benevolent force.

 **Phoenix** \- catharsis, rebirth, purification through death

 **Vulture** \- catharsis, purification, renewal

 **Spiders (and Webs)** \- they are considered the 'spinners of fate'.

 **Wolf** \- sexual predator (i.e. wolf whistle); loner; word lupa (like the wolf goddess, mother to Romulus and Remus, founders of Rome) meant "prostitute" as well as "she-wolf"; fertility symbol; a psychopomp, or creature that that guided the souls of the dead into the Afterlife.

 **Diamonds** \- said to shine in the presence of truth and innocence; protection; but diamonds that flash red are supposed to spell impending disaster and swift death (like lightning); believed to absorb both good and bad energy.

 **Silver** \- Moon, considered the female metal as opposed to gold; associated with psychic powers and intuition.

 **Blood** \- life, energy, vitality, the element of fir and of the sun; red color believed to restore the soul to life; symbolic of kinship aka "bloodlines"; tradition of mixing of blood to show allegiance.

 **Rubies** \- vitality, protection

 **Moonstone** \- protection; helps focus mind and intentions; talisman or charm used by those seeking love (only when worn on the night of the full moon).

Until next time!


	2. Makin' a Splash in Italy

Okay, I have got to say that I am completely surprised by the amount of responses I got to posting the first chapter. Seriously! I've got over sixty people following this story which is a miracle in itself. So guys _**thank you**_ for the awesome turnout and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. It's short obviously, but Amber does meet one of her mates. Hopefully, I'll get a longer chapter out for the next one.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or any other recognizable works.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Makin' a Splash in Italy**

Welcome to Italy, the historic country that was home to the Roman Empire and many other historical massacres as well as the birthplace of my newest headache. Yeah, not the greatest place to send a gal with the ability to sense chaos.

In any matter, thanks to my abilities, I made sure to stay well away from places like the interior of the Roman Colosseum as well as Pompeii and its general surrounding area as well as other similar places, knowing I was more than likely to drive myself nuts that way. Seriously, even after hundreds of years, many of the area's that were notorious for bloodshed were still hotspots for a chaos overdose for me.

Don't get me wrong, it's kind of neat to see history in motion in a very realistic setting, but, again, I still run the risk of doing more harm to myself in doing so.

Anyways, after a couple inspiring days each in Rome, Naples, and a couple other touristy locations near those, I was now standing in the city of Volterra where I would spend a couple days in before heading to Pisa then later Florence, Verona, and Venice.

Honestly, it was quite a beautiful city that seemed almost timeless in some ways. Many of the buildings were hundreds of years old, yet they were still more or less intact today. The stonework holding strong despite the time worn age they showed, and they were still able to house the people of today (with a little refurbishing of course). Roman engineering really is a spectacular thing.

If that wasn't enough, the people inside the city proved to be something of a marvel as well. Apparently, it was quite renowned for its safety too since crime rates here were at an all-time low. I almost wondered if I should take some notes for my bosses from when I returned to the States.

So far, I had already seen most of the sights like the Volterra Cathedral, the Etruscan Acropolis, the Medici Fortress, and Palazzo dei Priori. My favorite so far had to have been the wide-open area called the Roman Theatre of Volterra as I had fun closing my eyes and imagining all the colorful events that took place there and the delighted reactions of the crowd watching. This place wasn't as heavily tainted by horrors and bloodshed I saw on an almost daily basis no matter where I went.

In any event though, after a day of considerable walking and talking in Italy's native tongue as I toured, my throat practically screamed that it was freaking parched.

However, by the time I had found a small café to have lunch at, it was noon and every table was occupied, including the ones outside, despite the ominous cloud front that had just rolled in and obscured the sun.

Of course, me being who I was, I wasn't about to let that stop me from enjoying myself. I was just going to have to make friends.

Looking around, my eyes landed on the perfect person. There, not forty feet away, a very handsome man stood. But that wasn't what caught my attention, as he was surrounded by a mob of giggling tourist girls who were obviously too close for comfort. And if his body language was anything to go off of, he was in desperate need of a rescue; the corners of his lips kept straining with the need to frown. Many of the girls crowding around the dark-haired man, who I guessed to be about my age, didn't seem to be taking any of the hints the man was dropping about wanting to be left alone, invading his personal space in ways that, had it been me in his place, would have earned each and every one of them a new application of makeup in the color tones of black and blue.

Figuring I might as well get my good deed for the day in, I rolled up my mental sleeves, a plan already in mind.

"Yo, Mario!" I bellowed loudly enough to gain everyone's attention within the vicinity and earn more than a couple dirty looks from some of the other patrons. Whatever, it wasn't like I would see them again. And, yes, I know that that name was not original, but it was one of the first random Italian names to come to mind and it was either that or Luigi; and I chose Mario obviously. Anyways, once the handsome stranger looked in my direction, I grinned and waved before bounding over, pushing several of the girls out of the way. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you," I greeted him in a friendly manner, shooting him a discreet look that told him to just play along.

Appearing slightly surprised at first, the man nodded minutely, directing an equally small but nonetheless convincing smile in my direction. "My apologies, I must have gotten distracted while you slipped off," he replied, his semi-deep voice betraying a hint of an accent that didn't sound quite like Italian.

Ignoring the dirty looks I got from the other girls, I hooked my arm around his, thankful for the sleeves of my green summer lace blouse. It would not be good if my ability accidentally activated by touching him. "Well, don't do it again," I told him in a scolding manner. "I would prefer to keep 'losing my boyfriend in Volterra, Italy' off of my resume please."

He chuckled lowly as I led him away. Meanwhile though, the girls did the real-life equivalent of an anime fall with some of them gushing twin waterfalls of tears from their eyes probably too. Sadly, though, one of the more stubborn and ornery girls either didn't get the hint or chose to ignore it as she said, "Excuse me but we were talking."

She radiated distaste, ire and even a teensy bit of envious insecurity. If I had to guess, I think the last part was due to her being one of those types of girls who were obsessively concerned with her appearance, always checking in the mirror to make sure her make-up was perfect, and she was unconsciously picking up on my own slightly over-abundant self-confidence due to how I held myself. (I had dealt with men and women much more intimidating than this twig of a girl). It's funny because in grade school I used to be intimidated by glamour girls like her all the time as a kid as they seemed so perfect and unreachable to my adolescent mind. Does that make sense? Sorry, I'm rambling.

Anyways, calm as can be, I raised a brow before turning to the man and asking, "Were you?"

He shook his head, shoulder-length black hair swaying lightly with the motion. "No, they must be mistaken."

A laugh nearly escaped me at the furious expression on the girl's face as we walked away, leaving her to fume and seethe with her weepy crew. _Ah, how the tables have turned. The bitchy popular girl losing her touch. How pitiful_.

"Well played sir," I whispered once we were far enough out of earshot, grinning from one ear to the other.

He chuckled lowly again, the warm sound reminding me of molten chocolate. "Why thank you my dear."

Peering back over our shoulders, it was to my great relief to see that the girls had left. "They've gone," I told the dark-haired man, releasing him though some part of me felt oddly saddened by the loss of close contact. Weird. "I'm sorry about that."

"Whatever for?" he inquired, perfect brow raised. "You got rid of those pesky girls. And thank you for that by the way."

"Your very welcome. I couldn't just leave a handsome man like you to the sharks." Then I realized what I had just said and blushed. I really needed to learn to control my mouth at times.

With a warm smile, he said in that velvety voice of his, "You flatter me. Why don't I treat you to lunch to pay you back?"

"You really don't have to do that," I tried before flushing even more when my stomach voiced its opinion on the matter quite loudly. "But if you insist. Sure why not."

His smile widened, as if greatly pleased by my acceptance. And I'll admit that I felt a little zing of pleasure myself though I don't know why. Maybe it was because he was quite striking and had smiled at me like I was an angel or something. Damn, I sounded like a hormonal teenager. Hopefully though, I wouldn't regret taking up his offer for lunch.

 _Oh do shut up Ambrosia_ , I mentally scolded myself. _It's not like he's another one serial killer or anything. I mean, what are the odds? And remember, those guys are way more likely to ax-murder you than take you out to lunch like Mister Handsome-Manners is right now. Oh sweet Christmas! I don't even know his name yet either. Idiot. I need to stop getting distracted by drop-dead attractive strangers._

* * *

—Marcus' POV—

If he had to describe it, the day started out as any other for Marcus Volturi, beginning just the same as the others for the past several centuries. Which is to say, plain and frankly boring.

He and his soul brothers, Aro and Caius, had held court judging a young, barely fifty years old, vampire who had been going on a killing spree in Russia, drawing a dangerous amount of attention from the humans. He, of course, had remained solemnly silent during the trial, only moving once to grasp Aro's hand to allow him to see his opinion.

Other than that, Marcus allowed his melancholy mind to wander, remaining silent even when the young vampire cursed them out colorfully before being reduced to jigsaw puzzle-sized pieces and thrown into a fire by a couple members of the guard.

Marcus was keenly aware of what almost everyone thought of him nowadays, though he did not possess a telepathically inclined gift like his brother Aro.

They saw a heartbroken ancient being who had lived in torment and melancholy for too long. When they looked at him, all they saw was a predator that had lost his edge; a toothless, old lion with little to live for and only his vast experience keeping him going.

And maybe they were right.

Though he and Didyme had not been true mates like everyone but his coven thought, they had loved each other deeply once before her untimely death. So when she had been ripped apart by the monstrous mutts that were their kind's natural enemies as they dealt with the Romanian coven, something in him broke, shattered like thin ice under too much weight. Here was something, _someone_ , who was very dear to him and close to his unbeating heart, and all of that happiness had been ripped away in one fell swoop. It was no surprise really that he had withdrawn when the light of his very long life had been snuffed.

So he had grieved in his own way, just like how Aro unerringly focused on enforcing their laws and making the Volturi the most feared coven in existence, and Caius went on a murderous rampage, slaughtering every one of those mutts until they were practically driven to extinction.

In time of course, they all had healed from the loss of Didyme, (though he had admittedly taken longer to do so than the others), but nothing would ever completely erase or patch the hole in their hearts. Nothing and no one.

Anyways, back on topic. It was close to noon by the end of the trial, and the morning sun had long since been obscured by a rare amount of cloud-cover that was thick enough to allow a vampire to walk around outside without fear of discovery. And perhaps a little uncharacteristically, Marcus decided on a whim to make use of this rare opportunity and excused himself for the day, taking advantage of the cloudy sky that day to adventure through the city safely without catching unwanted attention from the humans.

As usual, the city was bustling with the sights, sounds, and smells of life.

Conversations from several streets over were clear to him as if they speakers were right next to him, talking about everything and nothing. Colorful signs written in the country's official language hung above shops, with the smells of freshly buttered and baked pastries, ripe produce, and various other scents wafting out of open door.

And all around, he could hear the heartbeats and gush of blood all around him from the humans alongside their personal scents and a myriad of other things. It was enough to make those with already tentative control of their bloodlust loose it altogether. But fortunately for the humans, he didn't.

Walking around the city for an hour or two, Marcus finally decided to stop at one of the cafés for a slight break and hopefully do a little people watching to pass the time. Even with their incredibly short lives, he still found humans quite interesting, though technically he had once been one too.

However, that wasn't exactly the way it played out.

At first, there had been only one girl, a tourist, who had wanted directions to one of the many tourist attractions the city had to offer. The next moment, that one girl had somehow multiplied into entire mob of girls that surrounded him, all giggling obnoxiously, batting their eyes flirtatiously, and reeking of too much cheap perfume. By human standards they were probably considered quite pretty, but to him with his enhanced senses, they were annoying with their shrill and grating voices, wore a ridiculous amount of make-up, and smelled horribly.

Not interested in any of their offers or attentions, Marcus tried to extricate himself from them, using words that were probably kinder than they deserved. But with only one or two of them possessing enough intelligence to understand his subtle hints, he couldn't make it a couple steps before they persistently mobbed him again. This was just one of the many drawbacks that came with having the inhuman beauty of a vampire.

Yet, it was just as he was about to give into his frustration and use words that were a little less kind, that he heard her. Heralded by a loud whistle, a woman's raised voice drew the attention of just about everyone in the vicinity as she bellowed, "Yo, Mario!"

Turning his gaze in the same direction as everyone else, he found himself locking gazes with a very attractive woman with blue-ish, green-grey eyes. She wore little to no make-up and had her dark blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, with her bangs framing her face, parted slightly to the left side. However, the thing that stood out about her the most—at least to him that is—was the way she carried herself as she brazenly pushed past the swarm of girls.

With visible muscles and light scarring, the woman walked not unlike how a predator would, with a sort of careful confidence that was neither cocky nor shy but oddly graceful. It was quite unlike most human's, who either seemed excessively confident, having a cocky swagger in their stride, or they were the meek type, skittering and scurrying to and from like a mouse. He mostly saw that type of modest confidence in vampires but rarely ever humans—which the woman clearly was from her heartbeat.

Acting on an impulse, Marcus activated his gift, which allowed him to see the relationships of everyone around him in the forms of varying strings of all different sizes, colors, and thicknesses, like some colorful spider web. And then he laid eyes on her and his mind went completely blank of everything except one word.

 _Mate_.

She was his mate, and the proof was laid out before him in the form of an extremely, dull but exceedingly delicate gold chain linking him to her, which hummed faintly (oddly enough).

As she got closer, a large, jovial smile plastered on her face, Marcus breathed in the scent of her, of summer baked fruit (especially lemons), rose and sugared peach, various spices and herbs, and fresh earth after a rainstorm. It was a combination that perhaps should not have gone together but smelt wonderful coming from her all the same.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you," she greeted him in a friendly manner, shooting him a discreet look to just play along.

A little surprised, he allowed himself to smile, inner beast practically purring at her close proximity, as he replied, "My apologies, I must have gotten distracted while you slipped off."

 _Not that I could be distracted from her natural beauty, which is distracting enough as it is_ , he thought, drinking the sight of her in. Pity her shirt, while its olive-green color complemented her eyes and hair, did not really show off her feminine figure as it should.

"Well, don't do it again," she told him in a scolding manner, hooking her arm around his, the lace sleeves of her summer blouse thankfully protecting her from his cold skin. "I would prefer to keep 'losing my boyfriend in Volterra, Italy' off of my resume please."

He chuckled lowly, finding her stab at humor as amusing as the girls' reactions to the word 'boyfriend'. Sadly, though, the humorous moment was ruined when one of the more stubborn tourist girls got right up in his mate's face and said snootily, "Excuse me but we were talking."

He resisted the urge to hiss at the girl—no, _child's_ imprudence. _How dare she talk to his mate that way!_ his instincts screamed, already feeling protective even though he had just met the nameless belle who was his mate.

Speaking of said belle, despite the tourist-girl's obvious rudeness, her expression showed a surprising amount of unwavering calm. Most would have probably been angered to be addressed with such a disrespectful tone, but she wasn't in the slightest, (at least not visibly).

Instead, she turned her attention on him, raising a dark gold-flecked brow and asking in a dull tone, "Were you?"

Marcus shook his head, replying simply, "No, they must be mistaken."

Inwardly, he laughed at the expressions on the faces of the women surrounding him, which were either full of pure loathing or defeated sadness on the verge of tears. Really, it was almost comical. And judging by the cat who ate the canary expression on his mate's face as they walked away, she obviously had noticed too.

"Well played sir," she eventually congratulated in a low whisper once they were far enough out of earshot.

He chuckled lowly again. "Why thank you my dear."

"They've gone," she told him after risking a glance behind them. She let go of him, and Marcus immediately felt the loss of her close presence, which left him feeling a little empty and sad. "I'm sorry about that," she apologized, obviously talking about how she had randomly grabbed him.

Despite himself, he smiled at her. "Whatever for? You got rid of those pesky girls. And thank you for that by the way."

"Your very welcome. I couldn't just leave a handsome man like you to the sharks," she smiled back before probably registering what she had said and blushing cutely.

His smile widened. He couldn't wait to show Aro and tell Caius about their mate, as since they were soul brothers, she was their mate too. (Hopefully, that wouldn't scare her away, along with several other things she was bound to find out from them).

But first and foremost, he needed to get to know her a little better. He didn't even know her name yet.

"You flatter me. Why don't I treat you to lunch to pay you back?"

"You really don't have to do that," she tried to refute before flushing even more when her stomach let out an audible growl. "But if you insist. Sure why not." It was adorable how she tried to play off the embarrassing moment.

His smile widened, pleased by her acceptance. He couldn't wait.

And to think, this all started out as an ordinary day.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, what do you think? Interesting start to a relationship that is no doubt going to get chaotic in the future? Pun intended.

Please review, favorite and follow. Please and thank you! Until next time!

Bianca out!


	3. Lunch with a Handsome Stranger

My word! The freaky, green-loving skeleton is alive! (Anyone get that reference)? Anyways, this is an update, obviously, so enjoy.

Also, before I begin, I just want everybody to be aware that I'm mostly going to base everything is this story off of the book, not the movie since I've only read the books. So Marcus is going to be the youngest-looking and Caius the oldest looking.

Second of all, I'm pushing back Charlie's and Renee's birthdays by six years in here since in the original cannon (am I using that word right?) Renee was nineteen (born 1968) when she had Bella and Charlie was 23 (born 1964) at the time. So in my story, they will have Ambrosia at those ages (19 and 23) and Bella will still be born six years later in 1987 like in the cannon. Okay? Okay!

Lastly, thank you for the huge response I got for the previous two chapters. Seriously, I have never had such a huge response to any of my stories! Especially in the beginning. So thank you all! You all are wonderful people in your own rights!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or any other recognizable sources.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Lunch with a Handsome Stranger**

"My name's Amber by the way, short for Ambrosia Swan," I introduced after the man I had 'rescued' bought me lunch. Seriously, if you are ever in Italy, just know that you will likely have the best lunches of your life if you know where to go.

Now that I wasn't preoccupied with getting him away from rabid tourist girls, I managed to get a clearer look at the man now sitting across the table from me. Aside from long dark hair, slight accent, handsome and male, he was of about average build, standing half a foot taller than me, and wore classy, semi-formal clothes that wouldn't be out of place just about anywhere. He was very pale too but not the sickly kind of pallor. In a way, it was more translucent with a papery texture if that makes sense, kind of like garlic or onion skin. Last of all, he also exhibited a pair of pretty blue eyes, though I suspected that they were contacts from the lack of pupil dilation. Odd…why would he feel the need to hide his true eye color? Protection perhaps? Or maybe he was just a creatively unique person? Hopefully though, if that was the case, the man would not turn out to be like those finicky asshole designers I once met during fashion week in New York.

At any rate, the still unnamed man's lips quirked, making his almost otherworldly beauty stand out even more if that was possible. I'm pretty sure I heard some women in the background sighing dreamily if that was enough indication. "Ambrosia? As in the food of the gods?" he questioned.

Nodding in his direction, I'm pretty sure my eyes lit up a little at the apparent surplus of background knowledge he possessed. Unlike people native to the southern Europe areas, I had not met many knowledgeable people or those interested in mythos besides college professors and high school English and history teachers. But even then, not all of them shared the same appreciation since they often were paid to teach such subjects.

"You know your Greek mythology well I see. Anyways, yes, but _please_ call me Amber. No one uses my full name unless I'm in trouble," I insisted with a toothless smile. "And what's your name? Or should I just keep calling you Mario?" The last part came out in a teasing tone, showcased by the glittering of my eyes and a humorous grin.

He chuckled but nonetheless responded, speaking with that odd yet musical accent I had picked up on earlier. "Marcus, Marcus Volturi," he introduced. "It is a pleasure to meet you Amber. What brings you to Volterra all the way from America?"

I raised a brow. "What makes you say I'm not from here?"

Okay, I knew it was kind of glaringly obvious that I wasn't from Italy, due to certain key characteristics, traits, factors and all, but I was still slightly curious as to how an apparent civilian picked it up. Not many people outside of law enforcement and the psychology field perhaps were as observant. Well, either that or they just chose to be oblivious like everyone else.

"Besides the obvious?" he queried with an arched brow, likely referring to the fact that we were speaking English and not Italian. "The accent for a start. I am guessing America considering you speak English quite fluently but lack the mannerisms and speech pattern native to England. Plus, a couple other things I noticed too," he admitted.

Wow, he really was a keen observer and likely very book smart if all the large words being bandied about were any indication. Who knew I'd be lucky enough to find someone to have an intelligent conversation with?

"Very astute observation Detective Holmes though I could say similar about you and your accent," I congratulated in a posh English accent that could have fooled your average Joe into thinking that I might very well be from England after all.

Marcus seemed surprised that I had picked up on that, but neither of us commented further on it.

In any case, I heaved a long, dramatic sigh. "Anyways, to answer your previous question, I'm taking a forced vacation I am afraid. Apparently, according to the people I work with, I don't know how to take a 'real vacation' so they set this up for me." I rolled my eyes in a fond manner at the last part, waving a hand lazily through the air.

He chuckled, and I swear I shivered from the tremors ran down my spine at the sound. The deliciously good kind of shivers if you catch my drift. "You must be very special if your coworkers paid for a trip a quarter of the world away."

I held back a snort, knowing it was pointless to complain over what was a really sweet deal on my part. Besides, I am truly grateful for this chance, even if my boss practically forced it on me. "I guess you could say that, though I don't think I would use the word special when referring to myself. Stubborn perhaps, and a workaholic when the mood strikes me. Not to mention a complete house-hermit and crazy, shut-in writer; but never special."

"Modest too it seems," he added with slight amusement. "In any case, you write stories? What genre's?"

Poor guy did not seem to understand that he had just set a horrific beast loose; and he would soon come to dearly regret the action. Everyone did eventually after they asked.

"Action-adventure, poetry, thriller, the occasional mystery and, of course, romance since I'm a sappy romance whore. Pardon my French. But I do fiction mostly. I really like writing supernatural, fantasy, and the random sci-fi novel. I guess it's just something about the 'magic' of them that pulls me in. Which is ironic since everyone in college thought I was going to write pure mystery and crime novels thanks to my double majoring in criminal justice and creative writing." I paused, realizing how much I was running my mouth. "Sorry, I'm talking your ears off aren't I?"

Marcus however, shook his head lightly, a small smile playing on his aristocratic features. "No, no. I find it refreshing that someone is as passionate about what they do as you are. It's very rare occurrence these days unfortunately."

Man, did this guy act several years older than his couple years my junior or what? He talked like a Tolkien book, but that might just be my imagination.

Still eating, I nodded, absently running a hand through my ponytail and twirling the end around my fingers before remembering my table manners. Dad drilled it into my head that you should never play with your hair while you eat with company, (barring close friends of course, since they never really cared). "True. Honestly, I think the only reason I don't complain more about writing—despite it being one of my true loves in life—is because my other job keeps me busy enough that I don't stress over making new manuscripts. It sort of balances me out in a way, so I can stay sane, having equal footing in both reality and fantasy."

Nodding, he made a tiny amused note in the back of his throat. "Spoken like a true wordsmith."

Finding myself enjoying the conversation and company, we talked for a while more after that, even after I finished my meal. I told him about some of my life in the US, about my artistic hobbies and pursuits and about my jobs, though foregoing any mention that I worked for the FBI specifically, not just law enforcement in general. People always acted weird around law enforcer-types unless they were also in the same gig. In turn, I learned that Marcus had two brothers, both of whom lived here in Volterra with him. Apparently, they and their family sort of oversaw the management several of the older monuments and historic structures here in the city, including the beautiful clock tower in the main square and the castle there. Marcus in particular though, oversaw the restoration of historical texts ranging from the Mycenaean age all the way to more modern times. Their family apparently came from really old money, and I mean old as in before the city was originally built kind of old. (No wonder his last name sounded familiar; Volterra was named after his family who practically founded it)!

In any matter, neither of us really spoke about ourselves in great detail, remaining vague when asked before changing the subject. But part of me (the nosy, investigative half) still wondered why he looked so sad, carrying around the aura like a mourning shroud despite the smile he wore. And I didn't even need powers to come to that conclusion.

Still, it amazed me how much he knew about the city as we walked around, pointing down some streets or gesturing to some structures and regaling me with the stories of their history. Sometimes, his descriptions sounded so detailed and realistic that I could imagine myself being there, reliving the past hundreds of thousands of years ago. As a matter of fact, a lot of what he said seemed to be beyond anything you could find in a history book nowadays. Truthfully, his in depth knowledge almost made me wonder if he had some sort of gift like I did too, if he didn't experience the events himself, which was impossible. No one could live that long.

Back to the point, I must have looked so enraptured with what he was saying that Marcus said thoughtfully, "Well how about this: tomorrow, I shall see if my brother's and I can give you an exclusive tour throughout the city, hm?"

Like a dog catching the smell of bacon, I perked up. "Really?"

Back in school, I remembered that I had always recalled historic events and places better when I was either really interested like with mythology, or I experienced it 'firsthand' so to speak as I had learned from a five-day trip to Washington DC and New York City. I probably remembered more facts from that trip than I did from any history class in my life (barring this one awesome teacher from sixth grade).

Marcus nodded, watching my reaction, though I don't think he expected what he got.

Without thinking, I launched myself at him in a hug. "Thank you!" I practically squealed, before remembering myself and having the grace to look embarrassed as I pulled away.

However, as I did so, one of my sleeves had slid back a little from the previous motion, revealing enough of my forearm for the bare skin of his hand to accidentally brush against it.

I didn't even realize what was happening before it was too late.

 **He could hear the triumphant howls of the wolves in the distance. The sound was mocking, even in his own ears as his heart seemed to both plummet from a great height and stop altogether.**

" **Didyme? Didyme! No! Didyme!"**

 **Suddenly, a horrible, bellowing scream of anguish beyond comprehension tore its way out of the speaker's throat, sounding almost inhuman, shaking anyone who heard to the core of their very soul, as well as instilling fear in the hearts of those who caused it. There was so much pain and sadness and** _ **rage!rage!rage!**_ **as mortal ash slipped through his fingers and rubicund eyes narrowed before turning pitch, soulless black.**

 **He was going to slaughter them all.**

Returning to the present, I gasped and stumbled a little, fingers shaking as my heart raced. There had been so much _blood_.

" _Cara_?" (Dear)

My eyes snapped to Marcus, who looked at me with concern.

Suddenly, I felt quite small and exposed, despite the chaos-induced high that part of me drifted on. I just could not get over that feeling of irrefutable, _crushing_ **rage** from the vision. There had been so much bloodlust, so much hatred, so much hunger for violence and bloodshed.

" _Cara mia_? Are you alright?" Marcus asked again, drawing my attention once more to his increasingly worried features. (My dear)

He took a step closer, caution in his features. But for the first time, I felt nervous in his presence and very vulnerable. His emotions seemed genuine. I mean, I wasn't picking up any palpable ire from him with my extrasensory perception. But that didn't change one simple fact:

Marcus was the one in the vision, and I think, no, I'm pretty sure he may have killed someone.

"I– I'm fine," I quickly amended, suddenly very wary of him though attempting to not show it. If he picked up any indication that I was spooked, things might not end well, and I knew that quite well from experience with undercover work in the FBI. Conjuring a small, but undoubtedly feeble smile, I said, "Sorry, just feeling a little under the weather all of a sudden. I should probably head back to my hotel room and rest for a bit. The jetlag is probably just catching up to me at last."

That look of fretful unease on his face only seemed to get worse, and again, I was struck by how genuine it appeared. Did he really care?

"Would you like me to escort you back?" he then politely enquired as if hearing my thoughts.

"No, no, I'm fine. I can make it back on my own. But thank you for offering," I quickly assured, mind scrambling for some brilliant but viable excuse to just get him away from me.

Hesitating, Marcus, the sweet guy he appeared to be, did not look thoroughly convinced, either by my assurances or my lie, I'm not sure, maybe both. Eventually though, he sighed and let it go, much to my relief.

"Here then," he said, thrusting a small business card into my hands. "This has my name and number on it. Feel free to call or text me if you need anything at any time while you're here in Volterra."

I wanted to protest. I didn't need help. But he cut me off with a serious but meaningful expression.

"Please, just take it." Marcus used his oddly chilly hands to curl my own fingers around the card, pushing it back towards me. Why was he so insistent on this? Was he planning on running a scam or something on me? But then, he mustered a small smile as he added lightly, trying to diffuse the tension, "Who knows? Maybe I will see you tomorrow and you can let me give you a tour around the place."

Though I still wanted to protest, wary of him due to my vision, eventually I just nodded, tucking the card into a back pocket. "Thank you Marcus. Maybe I will see you around." _I doubt it though_ , I mentally added.

* * *

—Marcus' PoV—

Racing back to the castle as quickly as possible without drawing attention from the humans, Marcus sought out his brothers with all apparent haste. He didn't care what the others thought of him as he flew by, no doubt leaving them gaping and wide-eyed with astonishment as he went. After all, he hadn't been this active in a very long time.

Heading towards Aro's study where he'd likely find at least one of his soul brothers and maybe catch the other as well (though Caius might also be in his studio), Marcus barely withheld himself from breaking down the door in his haste as he knocked, waited for his brother to allow him entrance, and proceeded to do just that. Of course, the palpable excitement emanating from him (or maybe it was just the show of emotion from him in general) earned Marcus a very startled look from both Aro and Caius.

Not waiting for either of them to speak, much less comment on his current demeanor, he said the few words that would change all their lives:

"Brothers, I have found her. I have found our mate."

And just like that, with as little as ten words, some sort of perverted, emotional explosion seemed to detonate in their midst.

* * *

 **A/N:** And there you have it! The third chapter of The Musical Mind! Yes i know it's short but I was having a lot of trouble writing this chapter while trying to save the good stuff for the next few chapters! Cut me a break okay?

Anyways, please have mercy and review, favorite, follow and checkout/vote on my polls! Please and thank you!

Have a wonderful day! And look forward to the next chapter _**The Meeting of Mates**_!


	4. The Meeting of Mates

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or any other recognizable sources.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: The Meeting of Mates**

Walking towards the designated meeting area, I debated my already questionable sanity once more as I sighted Marcus standing next to two other men.

I hadn't really wanted anything to do with Marcus after that vision the other day. But after what happened last night…I had had a split-second change of heart so to speak.

—Flashback—

Making a muffled, groaning growl, I shifted my face in the comfortable hotel pillow. Something kept persistently buzzing nearby, making a considerable racket and shining way too brightly according to my sleep-loving senses and muddled brain right now. Seriously, why did it always feel like some evil device was conspiring against all my attempts to have pure, unhindered sleep? Was a ban on nightly disturbances too much to ask?

Apparently.

Another low and miserable moaning sound made its way from my throat as I shifted some more, taking my fist and slamming it into the bed next to me in a clear message: _Shut the hell up and let me sleep_. It was a habit that had been born from a want to remain in the land of dreams and whiny, overly hungry cats that don't understand the difference between 3:00 AM and 6:00 PM.

Thankfully, the noise cut out a second later, and the light dimmed. Had I been more aware, I probably would have been thanking whatever deity that came to mind, who presided over blissful, undisturbed sleep. But as it stood, I merely contented myself to enjoying the miracle called sleeping in silence, acting very much like a cat after gorging itself on a turkey feast.

Be that as it may though, I almost managed to fall completely asleep once more when that damn noise started up _again_!

What the hell is wrong with people?! And society wonder why New Yorkers were classified as rude. Maybe it's because they're getting woken up all the damn time! Anyone ever think of that?

Almost ready to give up my career in law enforcement just so I could murder somebody, I belatedly realized that the culprit was none other than my own phone, with the ringtone finally reaching me through the fog of slumber as awareness slowly trickled back. Cracking open a bleary eye, I barely managed to make out the name on the caller ID as I snapped up the device with a fumbling hand, uncut nails displayed almost threateningly towards it as I answered. Of course, keeping in mind that the bedside clock said it was 3:42 AM right now in Italy, my greeting to the caller was anything but polite.

"What the fuck do you want Renée?" I snapped, rolling over so that I lay on my back. What part of 'I never want to talk to you again' did the thick-headed woman not understand? The 'never want to talk' or the part where I actually slapped her? You'd have to be a complete dunderhead to not understand the crystal-fucking-clear message I laid out last time I ever saw the woman. How the hell did she even get my numb— _Dad_. He must have passed it along through Isabella or something. Dammit.

"Ambrosia Merle Raven Swan! Don't you dare talk to me like that!" my oh-so-loving mother, (note sarcasm), hollered through the earpiece, apparently oblivious to the fact I had just been asleep!

"I repeat: What. Do. You. Want?"

The woman on the other end scoffed. "I was just calling to see if you heard the news about Bella going to stay with your father for the remainder of high school."

My lips formed a hard scowl. It was _always_ about Bella when it came to my mom. Bella this. Bella that. Bella is just soooooo fantastic. Me? I'm just cheap air compared to _precious_ _Bella_. Ugh! And people (*cough* dad *cough*) wondered why I had such a rocky relationship with the feminine portion of my family.

"You called me at three-fucking-AM to tell me something I already know?" I snarled crankily, more than ready to gut her. Everyone who bothered to get to know me knew to _never_ disturb me when I was sleeping unless it was important. They knew intimately about the hell I managed to raise every single time it happened because it didn't just affect me and the person stupid enough to wake me; if I was miserable, _everyone_ was miserable.

On the other end, I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Don't be silly dear it only 9:30 in New York."

My head started to hurt from how hard I ground my teeth together in annoyance. Five-plus-years since we last spoke, and she waltzes into my life, acting like she still knows everything.

"I'm not stupid child Renée! I'm usually in bed by then if you bothered to know me at all! _And_ if you had bothered to ask about my life every once in a while, you would also know that my friends at work got me an all expenses vacation to Italy, Renée," I said, _not at all_ rubbing in the fact that my coworkers cared enough about me to pay for a vacation to another country.

Now normally, after hearing the part about Italy in the last sentence, an ordinary kid's parent would be over the moon, asking about everything, all the sights and go-to places, and dredging up every factoid they could remember. They would shower their kid in praise for an accomplishment and ask for them to take lots of photos and enjoy themselves. Pity, the same could not be said about my mom.

"What! Why would you do such a thing?" And there was 'the tone', the mamby-pamby, wimpy toddler talk that always grated on my nerves worse than a cheese grater. "Ambrosia, _honey_ , that's really dangerous just going to some place you never been to just because those heathens offered you a chance to go. There are a lot of dangerous people out there you could meet. You could be kidnapped, put into prostitution or—"

"I'm hanging up now," I cut in, before proceeding to do just that, ignoring her screeching as I hit the red 'end call' button on the smooth screen. Admittedly, it felt amazing to do just that; hang up on my own mother without a second glance. At any rate, it looked like I'd have to get a new cell phone number…and maybe finally put out a restraining order like I've been wanting to do for ages. (That is if dad didn't convince me otherwise once again).

That last thought made me smirk ferally.

Ah, I love being an adult. I can be petty with people all I want and merely say that I was only doing the mature thing and walking away or something along those lines. Sometimes being an adult is just awesome.

Quickly blocking my mother's number, I made a little memorandum on the device to have a conversation with my dad about handing out my number, even to 'family'. He should have known better by now, being a cop and all.

Speaking of which, feeling around on the bedside table with the other hand, my fingers picked up the small business card with the help of my nails. After the conversation with my mother, I decided to do something rather reckless. If Renée said not to do something, like say meet someone new while in Italy, I became bound and determined to do the exact opposite, consequences be damned. So against my previous judgement, I decided to take Marcus up on his tour offer. Screw my stupid gift, and the horrible vision it had shown me. I was going to have fun and make a couple foreign friends. Maybe that might seem a little unfair to Marcus, as I technically was using him (if only a little) to accomplish some of my own selfish desires; but I mentally wrote the concern off as payback for the hell he'd put me through with that vision.

Yeah, I can be really petty when I want to be.

Besides, it's not like I ever saw Marcus kill someone specifically, even though that horrible sense of loss and rage only belonged to one very obvious person.

—End Flashback—

So yeah. Long story short: I'm going to the right because my mother told me to go to the left.

Anyways, despite cloudiness of the day, I easily picked Marcus out of the crowd since the throng of people milling about had even stopped to stare at him and the two men waiting next to him. Both were just as gorgeous as Marcus, though it appeared to be the only characteristic they all shared aside from freakishly flawless skin and long hair. His brothers if I was right in guessing.

The one on the left looked to be the oldest, though he still remained the shortest. With long, platinum blonde hair, the forty-ish something man wore an impressive scowl on his face, which made him both alluring and intimidating. It was probably the reason most of the passersby gave him such a wide berth.

The one in between Marcus and Scowly-Blondie however seemed a little more sociable. Standing at about an inch taller than Sir Scowls-a lot, he appeared to be the both figurative and literal middle of the brothers, contrasting with them to create a variety. Jet black hair and twenty-something features, I unfortunately could not see the color of his eyes from my current distance, but I imagined they were alight with childish curiosity, whereas Marcus came off as the somber type and Blondie the one with the anger issues. He seemed to be almost restraining himself bouncing a little on the balls of his feet while he tapped his gloved fingers together.

Odd. Who wore gloves like those in summer weather like this?

Expertly weaving through the crowd without touching anyone as only an experienced New Yorker could do, three differently-colored heads whipped in my direction as soon as I was less than three meters away. Damn, and I thought I was being pretty quiet there too.

" _Buongiorno, Marcus!_ " I greeted in Italian, with one of my typical impish smiles, waving as I bounded over. (Good morning, Marcus!)

* * *

—Marcus' PoV—

Standing in the central plaza, Marcus waited with his brothers for Amber to arrive. Thankfully, the forecast for that day called for cloudy skies all day, so none of them had to worry about their secret being blatantly exposed to humans.

As for the Guard, they were scattered about the city, blending in with the crowd as much as possible. Hopefully, nothing drastic would come up, but it was better to be prepared. There was always some upstart vampire who stupidly tried to challenge the Volturi in their home territory.

But he digressed.

Now, if he were being completely honest, Marcus felt that his brothers were only humoring him and not sincerely interested in meeting their 'soulmate' as he was. Yes, he had not been very 'active' in well over two-thousand years, but his brothers were only doing their best to entertain him and keep him happy for as long as possible. Neither Aro nor Caius truly believed that they had a true mate, especially after living so long without any signs of her appearing. They had given up; but Marcus had still held onto a fragile hope.

Hopefully though, they would see reason after meeting Ambrosia. But if their initial reactions were anything to go by, it would take a lot more that wishful thinking.

—Flashback—

"Brothers, I have found her. I have found our mate!"

And just like that, some sort of perverted, emotional explosion seemed to take place in their midst as Caius yelled,

"What?!"

Even Aro's typical cheerful façade faltered as the muscles in his face went slack.

Marcus nodded, completely serious but still enthused all the same. His face indicated that his words held no lie.

"That's impossible!" Caius continued to shout, a severe glower on his face.

Aro held up a hand, halting the blonde's furious words. "Peace, brother. Marcus, may I see please?"

Knowing immediately what the other vampire wanted, Marcus held out a hand, letting Aro take hold of his hand so as to access his memories of the event. Of meeting Ambrosia Swan, their shared mate.

Yes, as fantastical and unbelievable, 'soulmates' are a real thing (though they didn't really call them that). Everyone had one, but vampires were the only ones that were able to recognize them on sight (or smell) unlike humans. On the other hand though, finding your mate was another matter entirely as sometimes your mate may not even exist yet or might have even died long ago. And sometimes, in rare cases, there was even more than just one soulmate for one person, like in the case of the Volturi brothers.

Now, as stated before, Aro, Caius and Marcus were not brothers by blood. However, as soul brothers, they all shared the same mate, Ambrosia.

Of course, while this information is fantastical and everything, being soulmates not guarantee instant happiness or romance.

"Well?" Caius snapped, impatient and ill-tempered as usual as he gazed at Aro imploringly, who had let go of Marcus' hand not a second before.

An odd sort of smile stretched Aro's features. It wasn't necessarily sinister, but the expression was not born out of genuine delight either. Finally, the raven-haired vampire lord broke the tense silence.

"It seems our human mate has finally been found," Aro announced delicately. Acting once again as the proverbial middle of the three bothers.

"Human?" Caius, however, spat out like a curse.

Unfortunately, the eldest-looking brother shared a similar mindset to many other vampires in regards to the fact that they saw humans as little more than cattle. Compared to immortals like themselves, humans were lesser, weaker beings with ape-like intelligence. In a nutshell, Caius viewed humans akin to how an apex predator would view its lowly prey.

"Is something wrong with that brother?" Marcus bristled a little in Ambrosia's defense.

"Yes! Humans are fragile and imbecilic! And you are saying ours is still _mortal_?" Caius burst out angrily as usual. Known for his legendary temper, he rarely liked anything or smiled genuinely for that matter.

Marcus frowned, resisting the urge to growl. "You do not even know her, yet you still judge!"

"We have seen humanity's true countless times! Why should this one be any different from the rest of the cattle?" the blonde king shot back.

This time Marcus did growl. "She is our mate!"

"And humans are weak!"

"Peace Brothers!" Aro interjected, coming to stand between the two with his hands held out to stop them. He had already sent the Guard members out of the room for privacy.

Looking at him now, Marcus noted how Aro's red eyes twinkled in a way that made him seem both ecstatic and curious in a devious sort of way. The middle king had only grown more sadistic and conniving with age and experience, learning how to manipulate others in ways almost no one noticed until the last moment. A characteristic that truly should have been expected of an ancient immortal such as he.

Room falling silent, the three brothers had a bit of a standoff. One eager, one unbelieving, and one who probably did not seem as sincere as he should be.

Finally, Aro said, "As much as it pains me to take sides, perhaps we should at least give her a chance, Caius."

The perpetually angry king went to argue, but Aro forestalled him with a single finger and a quelling look.

"I am not saying you have to fall in love with her instantly, but we should at least meet her once, if only for academic purposes."

Typical Aro. Oftentimes only doing anything for "academic purposes" or so he said. Still, Marcus should have expected the following stipulation from his brother though. Almost all agreements had some sort of string attached to them.

"However," Aro said, turning to Marcus, "that is only if she calls you back and requests that tour you so kindly offered. Agreed?"

He held out his hands to both of them, knowing that they would have shake on it so Aro could use his gift to see their agreement, however reluctant it may be may be.

They did it anyway though, with Marcus agreeing more readily that Caius.

Aro smiled in a sort of disturbing way. "Besides, perhaps we may even come to like her."

Caius huffed. "We'll see about that."

—End Flashback—

So yes, he was the only one who genuinely wanted to spend time with their mate. Caius and Aro were only there out of necessity, not because they genuinely cared.

But in the end, Marcus still thanked his lucky stars that she had even called, otherwise this opportunity would not be possible. In all honestly though, after her odd reaction the previous day, he half expected for her to refrain from calling at all.

He still wondered about that too, but he knew well enough to put unanswered question out of his mind for now as he, Aro, and Caius waited for Ambrosia to appear. During their conversation over the phone, they had agreed to meet up at Palazzo dei Priori at ten o'clock local time wherein Marcus and his brothers would give her a tour throughout the city.

In a way, it almost seemed as if fate was intervening on their behalf today too, as the day's forecast called for cloudy, overcast skies all day. Hopefully things went well today, too.

Smelling familiar rain-scented earth and roses, Marcus easily picked out the sound of her heartbeat from the crowd, whirling to face the young woman's direction while his brothers did the same.

Once again though, he found himself enraptured by her, resisting the urge to smirk when he saw his brothers freeze out of his peripheral.

Wearing tan gladiator sandals that went up to her knees, ripped jean capris and a white top with a green floral print shawl made of chiffon, she looked like something out of a dream with a fedora-shaped black summer hat resting on her loose blonde curls while a simple, dreamcatcher pendant hung around her neck and blue-green feathers hung from her ears.

" _Buongiorno, Marcus!_ " she greeted when she thought she was within proper hearing distance, waving brightly and wearing a playful smile. (Good morning, Marcus!)

He smiled back as he returned the greeting in English, once again eager to spend time with his day. Marcus had a good feeling about today.

* * *

—Ambrosia's PoV—

"Good morning to you too, Ambrosia," he returned in English. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough," I said, unwilling to mention that I had stewed for an hour in my maternal-induced anger after that phone call before falling back into a restless sleep. "Yourself? I hope I didn't wake you up or anything when I texted s early this morning. I didn't even realize until I looked at the clock and remembered that not everyone gets up at 'insane o'clock' in the morning like I sometimes do."

He waved the concern away. "You are fine. I was already awake anyways. And I slept very well thank you."

Dramatically, I swiped my hand across my forehead as if wiping sweat away as I breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Whew. Had me worried there."

Hearing a huff, we both turned to the two other men present.

Marcus appeared a little abashed, as he cleared his throat a little before speaking again.

"Apologies. Ambrosia, these are my brothers, Aro and Caius," he introduced, gesturing to the dark haired man and Blondie-Scowly each in turn.

Waving, I grinned in their direction, making note of how both of Marcus' brothers wore blue contacts too, though Aro's seemed to have yellow flecks that made them look a little green, and Caius' were a very light shade compared to the sapphire ones Marcus wore. Another oddity to take note of. Maybe it was a family thing?

But oddly enough, upon meeting their gazes, both men's faces morphed, assuming an odd sort of mien. It resembled the sort of surprised expression you would wear when you found something you didn't know you were looking for. Why did people keep giving me that look nowadays? Marcus had done the same thing when we met.

I mentally shook myself, filing the information away for later.

"Please call me, Amber," I told them both. "Apparently, only Marcus is stubborn enough to use my full name."

Aro seemed to be the first to recover from his shocked stupor. His voice in turn seeming to shake Caius out of his funk too, as the raven-haired man said, "A pleasure to meet you too Amber."

Smiling, he shook my hand. But despite the fact he wore white gloves like the ones you see on stereotyped magicians, I got an odd impression. The feeling niggled faintly at my mind, and I wondered if it was just instinct from the years in law enforcement or if it was my gift activating. Either way, I subtly scrutinized the man before me, finding something about him—actually all three of them really—to be off putting.

Maybe it was just the way he smiled. But if I were an empath, I don't think I would exactly pick up on child-like glee, which was presently plastered on his face, so much as I would feel waves of sadistic glee. In a way, had he been a character in a story, Aro no doubt would have been one of the villains; the type that looks nice—because don't get me wrong, he looked really, really nice, like handsome-nice—but is anything but that underneath the exuberant mask he wore, and has a merciless, cold-blooded side that made other villains run for momma even on a good day, like a modern-day dark angel or Lucifer perhaps.

Releasing his hand, I turned my attention to Scowly but quickly realized he wasn't going to speak, so I merely gave him a small nod and a smile, though he only returned the former in a curt manner.

 _Sheesh_ , I thought with a mental eye roll at his abrasive attitude. _He might as well put a sign over his head that says "Leave me the F #$ alone!" or something. I better stay away from him just in case though. Wouldn't want another near psychotic episode just because he's one of those "angry at the world" types_.

Brushing him off for the time being, I focused back on Marcus, taking brief note of something out of the corner of my eye.

"By the way," I leaned in and whispered lowly enough so that only Marcus and maybe his brothers would hear. "Your fan club is back."

Noticing where I was looking, Marcus looked so miserable at hearing that, and I nearly laughed. But, in a moment of feminine pettiness, I looked directly back at the gaggle of girls on the opposite side of the square, who were all watching us and glaring daggers at me—and gave them all a bright smile as I waved cheekily.

 _I am such a bitch_.

Noticing the quiet stares the three brothers were giving me, I grinned roguishly and said, "I am nothing if not petty when I want to be."

I'm pretty sure I heard Blondie laugh a little at that, but he quickly disguised as a cough at the last second, schooling his features back into bored annoyance.

"Is that so, _tesoro_?" Marcus enquired with a small grin of his own, appearing amused. (darling)

"Hey, I may be a girl but I don't inhale as many perfume fumes like they do, much less bathe in them." I gave a shudder at the end of it that wasn't all that difficult to fake.

Blondie coughed again.

Well, at least he found me amusing, though I wondered if he was laughing _at_ me or _with_ me. Hopefully the latter, though I could deal with the former.

"Now," I said, clapping my hands together as I focused back on the matter at hand, "When and where does this tour begin?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

Yay! They all have finally met. Hopefully though, this relationship won't crash and burn though.

Anyways, please review, favorite and follow and check out my polls if you can please!


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